


It Started with Umbrellas

by ariandula



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariandula/pseuds/ariandula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not something they plan. Scott never says to Tessa, “By the way, it’s time we fuck to our program music.” Tessa never gives Scott that look that all girls seem to have when they want something. </p><p>But they both know it’s going to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Started with Umbrellas

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on the V/M livejournal.

It started with Umbrellas, but now it’s become a ritual. A superstition, or perhaps, nothing more than a habit. 

It’d been building for years. Ever since the first time their lips brushed in practice when they were still in juniors, really. That first touch started fire burning deep within both of them that has yet to be fully quenched. 

It’s not something they plan. Scott never says to Tessa, “By the way, it’s time we fuck to our program music.” Tessa never gives Scott that look that all girls seem to have when they want something. 

But they both know it’s going to happen.

****

Scott hates French. Everyone knows it, though he’d never admit it outloud, given his fanbase. So when Marina and Tessa approached him with the music from Parapluies de Cherbourg, he wasn’t exactly thrilled. They’d planned out their speech to him, he could tell, with their looks and their carefully choreographed words. 

“Just listen to it,” Tessa said. “You won’t even notice the French.” 

“The whole thing’s in French, T,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s not something you can overlook.”

With Marina’s part of the pitch over, she stood back and observed with her ever-watchful eye. Scott had become used to ignoring this about her. 

Tessa didn’t say much else - just dangled that damned cd in front of him with a hopeful grin. 

“Fine,” Scott sighed, snatching it out of her hand. “I’ll go see if they can put this on.”

Tessa’s lips broke into a full smile, tugging at Scott’s heart. He’d touched those lips more times than he could count, but always in practice, always by accident. Except for that one time, he thought, before trying to shake loose the memory gripping onto his mind. 

It was early on a Sunday - usually their day off - so there were only a couple of other people in the entire building. Normally they liked to keep their music options secret until they had decided, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt if no one was around to hear it. The booth area was empty, so he popped the cd in himself. Just as he clomped his way back over to the ice (somehow he’d find a way to be graceful in skate guards), the sound of thunder and rain came over the speakers. Tessa was already on the ice spinning around. She looked like a graceful ballerina caught in a storm. 

Unable to stop the smile tugging at his mouth, Scott quickly stripped the guards off of his skates and stepped onto the ice. He joined her mid spin - sliding his arms around her and making them one. 

“Don’t you like it?” she asked as they slowed and transitioned into stroking side by side, hands clasped between them.

“It’s… dramatic,” he finally settled on. The truth was, the sweeping music was starting to pull at something inside of him. It made him feel important - caught up in some grand moment. 

“Did you even notice the French?” she teased.

“I noticed,” he grumbled, but he barely got the words out before laughing. “But maybe not really.” 

Tessa squeezed his hand. “Told you so.” 

“What are we, kids again?” he asked as she turned to face him, sliding into a perfect dance hold. 

Something flickered in her green eyes - there for a moment, not long enough to hold onto, then gone. “I hope not,” she said quietly. 

Oh, hell. That shut him up and put him right back to where they were a few months ago. Why did she always do that to him? 

Quietly they stepped through some footwork, making it up as they went. One of the advantages of being together for ten years. The only sounds in the arena was the music playing and their blades running across ice. 

Once the music had finished, they stood in each other arms at center ice, breathing deeply. Something had changed in Scott, halfway through. He felt like he’d just lived through the darkest day of his life and come out the other side, older but sobered. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said, breathing into her neck. “This will work.”

No teasing from Tessa this time. “I thought so.” 

****

Several months later, they were only days away from the world championship. Their program to Umbrellas had been heralded as innovative, fresh, inspiring, and a hundred other things. It had been a great season so far. 

Scott still had no idea what the damn movie was about. 

“Okay, enough is enough,” Tessa said the day before they were to fly to Sweden. She’d been having a bit of pain lately, so they’d only marked through their programs in practice that morning. It would be good to have an afternoon to rest, anyway.

“You’re done with me and want to switch partners?” Scott quipped as he pulled off one of his skates. 

Tessa shoved him with her elbow. “No. We are going to watch that movie tonight. No excuses,” she added when he opened his mouth. 

“But we just watched that other movie, Charade? I thought we had a deal about how many old movies we watched in the span of a week.” 

“We are not competing at Worlds without you seeing this movie. I’m coming over tonight.”

Scott knew determined Tessa when he saw her. Arguing would get him nowhere. “Fine, but you better bring snacks.”

“Don’t I always?” she said over her shoulder and walked away. 

Scott put his face in his hands and sighed. He was nineteen. Nineteen and he’d never had a girlfriend, only ever kissed Tessa, and was about ready to explode. Maybe he should have been a hockey player after all. 

He’d had opportunities to hook up with girls from the rink, at parties, at competitions. Not that he was some stone-cold fox, but there tended to be a bit of steam being let off when a bunch of athletes go wild. But every time a girl wrapped her arm around him or leaned close to his face, all he could think about was how she didn’t smell right, didn’t feel right. It usually took him by surprise, actually. One time he’d been so startled by his own internal discord that he’d shoved a girl away. He’d felt kind of bad about that ever since. 

By the time Tessa came over to his little studio apartment that evening he’d calmed himself down. She’d held up her end of the deal - a bag of baked chips and a carton of vanilla frozen yogurt were in hand. He knew she thought his snack choices were boring, but he didn’t care. He kept a bottle of chocolate sauce in his fridge to keep her happy. 

“Ready for this?” she asked with shining eyes before plopping down next to him on his bed. The place was big enough for a couch. Tessa’s family came from money, and he was lucky that they were happy to pay most of whatever their federation couldn’t cover. But the small space suited him just fine, and she didn’t seem to mind. 

“Are there at least subtitles?” he whined, grabbing the chips.

She shot him a look but didn’t answer. He’d never forgive her for the time she made him watch a German movie - a weird German movie - with no translation. She’d just gone on and on about the cinematography and the symbolism, but he’d had trouble just understanding why the girl kept turning to the camera and crying. 

“Here goes,” Tessa said, hitting play. 

Scott wasn’t entirely sure how it always happened, but over the course of the movie, Tessa kept wriggling closer to him. He knew she wasn’t making a move on him. She just liked to be close to people while watching things. 

Then something changed. When she asked him later he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint it, but in the moment, he knew: Tessa started crying. 

He’d seen her cry before, of course, many times. He’d even caused it once or twice, something that had hacked off a piece of his soul. But it was different as they sat and watched two people fall in love before being separated by war. As that train pulled away from the station, as their program music came to a close, big tears started rolling down her cheeks. 

“Tess?” he whispered, not wanting to make it worse. “You okay?”

She sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’m fine. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

Tessa leaned her head down on his shoulder, so he slid his arm around her, tucking her against him. He pressed a kiss against her temple and murmured against her skin, “There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Then he handed her a tissue and they settled in to watch the rest of the movie, wrapped up in each other. At the end, she was surprisingly devoid of tears. That was more strange, actually, than her crying would have been.

“Do you think it’ll be like that?” She said into his shoulder.

A million snarky remarks flew through his head, and a year or two ago he would have said them. Now, he asked, “What will?”

“Life. Love. Do you think we’ll find someone perfect only to lose them again? I don’t want to do that. I don’t think I could do that.” 

“I could never be lost,” Scott said loftily before kicking himself. Apparently he couldn’t keep all of his comments inside. 

She snorted. “You’re perfect?” 

Just when he needed them most, Scott was devoid of any quips that could bail him out of the conversation. Instead what slipped out was, “For you.” 

“What?” she knew, like she always does, that he wasn’t kidding anymore. 

“Perfect for you.”

“Scott…” she said uneasily, unable to finish whatever thought came next. 

Maybe it was the emotional music. Maybe it was her tears. Maybe it was even the damn French. He didn’t know for sure what it was, but he did know that something needed to change, just like it had a year ago. 

She opened her mouth to try again, but he couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear her ask about what happened at Worlds 2007. Not a full year later. 

So Scott did the one thing he knew that could shut her up. He detangled one of his hands from between them, held her face, and kissed her. 

Her hand came up to grab his shirt collar, pulling him in closer to her. The movie reverted to the menu music, playing that love theme over and over again as they kissed - longer, then deeper, then harder. 

He broke off, breathing hard. Even now they were in sync, chests rising and falling at the same time. Just as he lifted his eyes to hers, she grabbed his face and kissed him right back. He made a startled sound in the back of his throat and ran his hands up her back. 

They were already just about as close as possible, but she found a way to push even further by sliding a leg around him until she was straddling his lap. He was lucky he didn’t faint right then and there from the sudden blood loss in his brain.

He became aware only of moments, and wasn’t even sure of the order.

Her hands on his face, his stubbled cheeks.

His mouth opening and hers following, a meeting of tongues.

His fingers moving up the back of her thigh, coming to rest on a place he’d touched many times before while working, but never, ever, like that. 

Her breath catching when he moved his mouth down her soft neck. Wanting desperately to figure out how to get her to make that sound again.

Her cold hands touching his bare skin, pulling off his shirt. 

His heart racing when he slid off hers, bringing their skin together. 

Her fingers moving down and around his torso, lingering on the dips and ridges that he was secretly proud of. 

His body guiding her down onto the bed, sinking them into the mattress, covering her up while her legs wrapped around him. The thunderstorm began again in the background, the music tense with anticipation.

His voice: “Are you?”

Her voice: “Yes.”

His voice: “Okay.”

Her small, perfect breasts bare to him for the first time. Needing to touch them, kiss them, feel their shape in his hands. The gentle, quiet singing. 

His hand shaking as he opened the small foil package before she took it from him and rolled it onto him herself, while he prayed that the touch of her hand wouldn’t send him spiraling. 

His body pushing as slowly as he could manage, a fraction at a time while the music built in the background. 

Her face wincing in pain, sending a knife into his chest until she clung to him, slid her hands down to his backside and whispered, “Yes.” 

His movement, still trying to be slow, trying not to cause more pain than he knew she dealt with everyday. Unable to fully hold back due to the sensations rocketing through his body. 

Her small sigh - not of pain, but pleasure. 

His face burrowing into her neck while he pushed himself deeper, faster, clasping her hands with his on the bed. The music surging, climbing, sweeping around them. 

Her body opening, clenching, shivering as the music approached its final, emotional climax. 

His neck straining, his voice groaning, while he gave up the fight and let go. 

Her skin, soft and slick, when he finally melted down against her, spent of all remaining energy. 

Her hands running through his hair, coaxing him to relax while the music slowed to its ending cadence.

Then the music started over again. Probably not for the first time, but Scott was finally aware of it. Slowly, he lifted his head enough to place his mouth against hers one final time, unwilling to give up the moment. Tessa smiled against him and gently pushed him up until she could move. Wrapping herself in the sheet, she held his head with her other hand and pressed her cheek against his. 

Then with a final kiss on the corner of his mouth, she got up and started dressing. 

Scott quickly pulled on his shorts and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wanting to know the answer but desperately hoping it was the right one. 

She turned to smile at him before sitting down next to him on the bed. “Yes. I know we’re going to need to talk about this, but we’re supposed to be on a plane early tomorrow. We both need to sleep.”

Scott was ready to protest, demand that they talk until he knew she wasn’t upset, but she pressed a finger to his lips.

“I’m fine. I’m glad that happened. But we’ll have plenty of time to talk about this later. Really.” Then she kissed his cheek, squeezed his hand, and left. 

When he looked into her face before she pulled the door shut behind her, she really did look… fine. Except now he was left with a different, more difficult question: How was he? 

They never talked about it.

Worlds was a whirlwind of press conferences, fan meetings, practices and performances. By the time they were next to take the ice for their full dance, almost a week had passed since that night in Scott’s apartment. Things had returned almost to normal. Almost, because now he had a hard time even being around her without touching her. Without looking into her eyes and remembering. He wasn’t sure if she shared his struggles. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. 

Then they were on the ice, and the thunder began. He knew the steps and movements by heart, and now his soul had the experience to match. They moved together like they had that night - seamless, flowing, breathlessly together at every moment. When the music reached that final high and he spun Tessa around and around, Scott thought he might burst along with it. He had to keep himself from grabbing her face and kissing her and only just stuck to the choreography. 

As they struck the final pose, all he wanted was to turn around and look into her eyes. He needed to know that she’d experienced the same thing he had. After what felt like forever, he finally got the chance to see her face, and the look she gave him went straight to his heart. 

He should have known. He did know, really. They were always in sync. Always. He needed to trust that in more than just skating.

So they never talked about it. They didn’t need to. 

Then they didn’t have the chance.

It wouldn’t be too much longer before Tessa’s legs would halt any progress they’d made, professionally or personally. Any thoughts of togetherness disappeared in the midst of doctors, testing, and trainers. 

But Scott could wait.


End file.
